Etienne
by ChildrenoftheBarricade
Summary: When faced with the question as to why Enjolras seems so cold-hearted, Grantaire tells the story of their leader's first - and only - love. Little by little, Marius learns more about the Fearless Leader, but it's unlikely that there will be a happy ending. E/R/OC, rated T for language.


**A/N: So, my June 6th offering. Slight overuse of section breaks, acting as a separation between memory and present. This has been in the works for over a year, and I have several variations of this weaved into several different stories, but this was the first version. A few tweaks, a little redrafting, and I'm satisfied with it - or as satisfied as I can be with my own work. Enjoy, and Happy Barricade Day!**

Marius was sat in the back room of the Cafe Musain with the other Amis. He was nervously fiddling with his glass, listening to the others talk about the rebel leader. Combeferre and Enjolras were both absent, away doing something or other. Marius decided to take the opportunity, find out a little more about the man they all followed. He cleared his throat, and everyone turned to him. After challenging Enjolras over Corsica's importance, he usually remained silent.  
"I don't understand him."  
"Who?" Grantaire asked, unusually sober. Apparently Enjolras had paid off the staff to stop them serving him anything alcoholic.  
"Who else? Enjolras. He's cold and heartless, and yet you'd all follow him to the grave. Do you all know something I don't?"  
"Well, I don't doubt we know a lot of things you don't. Specific to your point, he's not cold-hearted, he just takes his time to trust. He's built up a lot of defences over the years, but it wasn't long ago that he was just a kid. Gods, I loved him. I still do."  
"That's not exactly a surprise," Marius said. "And he obviously doesn't give a damn about you"  
"He did once," Grantaire said dreamily.  
"True." Jehan joined the conversation. "But that's a very complicated story, involving my cousin, you and Enjolras all falling in love with one another. That's complicated enough without allowing for the fact all three of you are men."  
Marius paled. He was tolerant of sodomy - it was hard not to be, considering Courfeyrac, as his closest friend, was interested in men and women - but it was still strange. It was obvious that Grantaire was infatuated with Enjolras, but it was strange to imagine he had once returned that love. He seemed so celibate and pure, above the lusts and desires of the mere mortals.  
"That was back when the Amis were in their infancy, and Enjolras's family had just moved to Paris," Jehan continued. "Etienne, the founder, he was my cousin. I lived with him while my parents were away - my mother had family issues back in the south, and my father travelled for work."  
"We were a group of about twenty back then," Grantaire told Marius. "Most of them have gone their own ways. Only four of us knew him; me, Jehan, 'Ferre and Enjolras. This story isn't mine to tell. Etienne was the biggest part of this story."  
Jehan sighed. "It all started about six years.. Hold on. Grantaire, what are you talking about? You and Etienne were inseparable."  
"He left me."  
"He loved Enjolras. Given half a chance, you'd have made the same choice. Which one of them are you most jealous of?" Marius looked confused.  
"Will the pair of you stop arguing and explain what the hell you're on about?" With a final glance at Jehan, Grantaire started to tell the story.

* * *

Combeferre was eighteen, and he'd been friends with Etienne and Grantaire for about a year, both of them twenty-one. His mother's brother had a son, a boy of sixteen who had just left boarding school. He'd gotten on well with his cousin when they were children, and had agreed to keep an eye on the boy while he adjusted to life in Paris. They met up at the Cafe Musian, already becoming a usual haunt, where they were meeting Combeferre's cousin.  
He watched people enter. A small brunette with his mistress. A middle-aged red headed women. A well-built man with wiry grey hair. A tall, slim blonde boy. "Julien?" The blonde boy looked at him, calling his name.  
"Valentin? Is that you?" The boy nodded. Combeferre studied him for a moment. His cousin had been eight years old when they'd last met, and since then, he'd grown up. He looked young for his age, but it was obvious that he had matured. Combeferre stood up and embraced him. "It's good to see you again. Valentin, these are my friends, Etienne Prouvaire and Adrien Grantaire. Adrien, Etienne, this is my cousin, Valentin Enjolras."  
Etienne regarded him coolly. "I don't want a bourgeois brat that could hand us over to the police at any moment. Where do you stand politically?"  
"Etienne, he's sixteen," Combeferre protested, but Enjolras snorted.  
"The monarchy's an abomination. The rich get richer, and the poor get poorer. They need to be gone."  
Etienne laughed, but relaxed a little. "Alright. You're a little overzealous, but we have the same views, more or less. You're welcome to join us, if you like."

* * *

"No, I'm not buying it," Marius interrupted. "This is Enjolras we're talking about? Enjolras who, while obviously republican, can give us a thousand reasons not to assassinate the king?  
"Marius, just shut up and let me tell the story," Grantaire snapped, the others agreeing. It was rare that anyone got an insight into Enjolras's past- he was too focused on the future. "He was different when he was younger. After three years under Etienne's guidance, he became a little less extremist. May I continue?"  
"Go ahead."

* * *

Etienne and Grantaire instantly liked the latest edition to their group. He was wild and unpredictable, but in the depths of his hysteria, there was brilliance. He looked up to the leader and his deputy with wide-eyed veneration, and they attempted to tame him. The two spent all their time looking after their young protégé. He could be reckless, troublesome, and many of the Amis argued against his presence. To them, he was a child, with no understanding or appreciation of their cause. Etienne defended him fiercely, sharing Enjolras's ideas and logic with the group.  
One summer afternoon, it was too hot to hide away in the back room of the cafe. Etienne decided it was better to be outside, but to discuss important matters was a great security risk. The group dissolved, Grantaire, Etienne, Enjolras and Combeferre finding a quiet spot in the Jardins au Luxembourg to continue their discussion. Etienne had heard from his mother in Lyon, where there had been some stirs of anger. He was arguing against the need for violence.  
"I think diplomacy is the way forward," Etienne said, running his fingers through Enjolras's hair. Enjolras himself was stretched out on the grass, his head in Etienne's lap like a favourite pet. Grantaire tried not to feel jealous as he watched his lover and his protégé.  
"I agree," Combeferre added when Grantaire didn't reply. "Revolution, but civilisation."  
Enjolras sat up sharply, impassioned. "Nonsense! Being diplomatic has gotten us nowhere. An insurrection is not a flawless solution, and we should avoid unnecessary bloodshed, but it might be our only way forward. The Terror is not the perfect embodiment of our ideals, I accept that, but it got things done, didn't it?"  
"Hush," Etienne chuckled, settling the blonde back on the sand. "Calm down a little, cheri, it's alright. You're only young. Revolutions and war are not your concern. That is a very last resort, and if it should come to that, I want you as far from the bloodshed as possible."  
"Don't patronise me, I'm not a baby." He tensed up and pulled away from Etienne, angered by his laughter. "I have just as much of a right to be involved as you do. I want freedom and equality, and if I have to fight for it, I will."  
"I know, I know."  
That night, Grantaire sat in Etienne's living room, thinking. Jehan was in bed, his tutor due to arrive early in the morning. Etienne joked that with all of the staff sent by Jehan's parents, the place hardly felt like his own. But Grantaire was accustomed to Etienne's home, as familiar to him as his own and far more comfortable. After quickly checking on his cousin, Etienne slumped in his chair, rubbing his head.  
"What is it?" Grantaire gently touched his arm.  
"Oh, what is it always?"  
"Enjolras." Once, it had been a question. But as the teenager's fire burned brighter and hotter, Grantaire knew what was chief in his lover's worries.  
"That boy's going to die young. He'll get himself killed and no-one will be able to stop him. I care about him, he means the world to me, but I would never forgive myself if his blood was on my hands. He's just a kid. He's a fool, but his heart's in the right place."  
Grantaire let Etienne's rant run its course. He eventually tailed off, casting Grantaire a sheepish grin. "Sorry. I suppose you're sick of me going on about Enjolras. That's 'Ferre's job." Etienne grinned. "Or are you jealous that I'm paying someone else some attention?"  
"Not if it's him. It would be a little hypocritical. I think you'd have to be blind not to pay him attention. If it wasn't for you..."  
"I think we're both agreed on that. But we both have to agree. If the opportunity arises, for whatever reason, neither of us is permitted to have carnal knowledge of him. It would feel like taking advantage, and he's far too dear for that."

* * *

"Hold on, hold on."  
"For Christ's sakes, Marius!"  
"Just let me get this straight. You and Etienne were lovers..." Grantaire nodded. "And both of you fell for Enjolras?"  
Courfeyrac laughed. "Have you see our dear Apollo, Marius? It's really not that much of a surprise."  
"Oh, God. Just get on with the story."  
"Right. Anyway, you'll remember that next bit, Jehan. Etienne fell hard that winter, the year turned seventeen..."

* * *

Enjolras showed no signs of settling down, getting into trouble at every opportunity Just after his seventeenth birthday, after somehow managing to escape from Etienne, Grantaire and Combeferre's watchful eyes all at once, he got himself into a bar brawl.  
Half an hour later, Combeferre found him slumped outside the tavern. He had a split lip and a bloody nose, an impressive bruise forming on his cheekbone. "Valentin, where on earth have you been? Come on, Prouvaire and Grantaire are starting to worry." He took Enjolras by the arm, and the boy gave a sharp yelp. "What's wrong?"  
"My arm hurts." Combeferre took his wrist more gently, examining it.  
"Oh, you foolish boy, what have you done?" The harsh words were softened by his fond tone. "I'll take you to my father. He'll know better than me."  
Alexandre Combeferre was a well-respected physician. He gently prodded his nephew's eyes, deeply sighing. "You know, Valentin, your father sent you to boarding school to keep you out of trouble. I'll give you the benefit of the doubt and assume this was a case of wrong place, wrong time. At least, I hope you're staying out of trouble.  
"What's wrong with my arm, Uncle Alex?" To his family, he was calm, quiet and polite, not the inferno that Etienne whipped him into.  
"You've broken your wrist. Fortunately for you, it's a clean break. You won't need surgery. But I'm afraid you won't be able to travel." Enjolras knew what he was hinting at.  
Enjolras's mother couldn't bear the cold of the Parisian snows. They had agreed that they would spend the winters back in Provence, and Combeferre's family had decided to join them. "You'll have to work something out. Your father can't cancel the trip - your grandmother's expecting him. But a bright boy like you, you'll come up with something. My Julien's a practical lad, and the world will always need practicality. But it needs radical ideas like yours sometimes." Alexandre bound his broken wrist, and Valentin stood up to leave.  
"Thank you, uncle."  
"I'm just doing my job, Valentin. Say hello to your aunt before you leave." Enjolras obeyed, but went to meet Etienne and Grantaire before going home, and explained his predicament.  
"...So, I need somewhere to go while my family are away." He sighed, putting his head down on the table. Etienne put a hand on his shoulder.  
"Don't worry about it, cheri. I can talk to your father. You can stay with me and Jehan for a little while. I'll look after you. And, for the record, stay out of the bars. We don't want you breaking any more bones."  
It was fairly easy to convince his father. The Prouvaire name was well trusted, and M. Enjolras knew his brother-in-law was correct. Someone as excitable as Enjolras, travelling with a broken bone would make it unlikely to heal. He cared greatly about his son, but it was for the best, so he agreed.

* * *

"Stop right there!"  
"MARIUS!"  
"Don't push him," Jehan warned. "He can have an anger to rival Enjolras's every now and again."  
"Right, you've disturbed me now. What in God's name is wrong?"  
"Enjolras and this Etienne together, alone, for four months?"  
"Not alone," Jehan pointed out but was ignored.  
"I thought the two of you promised that neither of you would... you know."  
"I never once said that we did. Etienne wouldn't lay a finger on him. Even back then he was untouchable. Only back then, he'd burn you if you tried. Now he'd freeze you."  
"I don't mind a bit of cold," came a voice from the corner. Grantaire rounded on the speaker.  
"Courfeyrac, we all know you'd sleep with anyone given half the chance, but please stop trying to add Enjolras to your list of conquests, and if you must, not while I'm telling this story. Now, where was I? Oh yes. Enjolras stayed with Etienne that summer..."

* * *

Enjolras settled into the Prouvaire house quickly, secure under the guidance of Etienne and Grantaire, without Combeferre hovering over their shoulders. Although Enjolras was still enthusiastic to the verge of a frenzy, he was slightly calmer than he'd been a year ago, and Etienne made him promise to take it easy until his wrist healed.  
It was long before the boy got bored with being confined. When, in a fit of rage, Enjolras managed to shatter a mirror, Etienne felt he had no choice but to lock him in his room, to keep both him and Jehan safe. It wrenched his heart to be sat outside the door, listening to Enjolras curse and scream, until he eventually fell silent. Etienne cautiously opened the door and found him asleep. He was sprawled out across the bed, face still set in a stubborn frown.  
When Etienne left, Jehan was waiting downstairs nervously. "Is everything alright?"  
"It's fine. He just doesn't like to be cooped up. God, I wish I could do something for the poor boy. I'll calm him down, pull him away from the edge of insanity."  
"That sounds so poetic." Jehan smiled slightly. A resounding crash echoed through the house, alerting Etienne that his charge was conscious.  
After a while, Enjolras tired himself out. He stretched out on his bed, mumbling hoarsely to himself. He'd managed to completely destroy his entire room, making Etienne glad there was nothing dangerous in there. He went to the door. "Enjolras?"  
"Can I come out now?" His voice was roughened by shouting, and pitifully weak. Etienne wanted to crumble, but held firm.  
"I can't just let you run riot, cheri. You'll mess up your arm, and Combeferre will kill me. I'll unlock the door, but you have to promise you'll behave yourself."  
"I swear. Anything. Just please let me out." Etienne unlocked the door, and Enjolras jumped up, throwing himself into Etienne's arms. Etienne was a little confused, but took hold of him, comforting him.  
"It's alright, cheri, I've got you. Don't worry. I'm here."

* * *

"Stop!"  
"Marius!" The entire room chorused their disapproval at the interruption.  
"Sorry, I just don't understand why Enjolras would freak out over being locked in a room."  
"He's extremely claustrophobic. When he started boarding school, some older boys decided to play tricks on the new boy. They locked him in a stationery cupboard overnight. It was just a stupid prank, but he hates being in enclosed spaces."

* * *

Calmer now he wasn't trapped, Enjolras settled into a chair at the dining table. He sat with his head down on the table, injured arm stretched out. Etienne took hold of his bandaged wrist, wincing slightly when Enjolras cried out.  
"What's wrong?"  
"I think I jolted it or something. It hurts." He swore, a profanity that made Jehan colour.  
"Language," Etienne warned, trying to find out what was wrong. He wasn't a doctor, but he thought he knew enough to treat Enjolras. "You're fine. There's no other damage."  
"It really hurts."  
"I bet it does. I'm sorry, cheri. I was trying to keep you safe. It obviously didn't work. You do have to promise to behave yourself though. I told your parents and your uncle Alexandre that I'd look after you and keep you out of trouble. You can't keep getting yourself hurt."  
"I promise," he mumbled, his voice still hoarse. It seemed the fire in him had been temporarily quelled. Etienne knew he had to try and take advantage of the lull, and try to tame his young protégé.  
It was at this point that Grantaire around, to find Enjolras slumped on the table, Etienne gently holding his arm. "Is he alright? Jehan let me in. Have I missed something here?"  
"Nothing important. Enjolras managed to jolt his broken arm. Silly boy." He smoothed back the boy's unruly blond fringe. "And I think I managed to cause him a nervous breakdown."  
Grantaire looked at him, wide-eyed. "Etienne, mon adore, you never cease to amaze me. I hope he's alright." Etienne nodded, and Grantaire put a hand on his shoulder. "It's late, and you look exhausted. Come to bed. I'm sure Enjolras can look after himself perfectly well."  
"I'm not tired. Really. And it's my fault that Enjolras is upset and hurt, so I'll look after him."  
"I'm fine," Enjolras promised with a yawn. "I'll be good. I don't need babysitting."  
"I'm doing this for my benefit, to calm my conscience. Come on, cheri, I think you should go to bed yourself. I'm so sorry for everything. Let's go, you need sleep."  
Enjolras gave a non-committal groan, but got to his feet. Grantaire felt a surge of something like envy, but let them go, and sat down at the table, waiting for Etienne to come back. He sat down opposite his lover. "He'll be alright soon. Poor boy. 'Ferre will kill me if he finds out I upset him."  
"You really care about him, don't you?"  
"How could I not? God, I think... Forget that. I know I love him. How could I not?"  
"And so do I. But I can't play second best to him, and nor can you."  
"Adrien, I love you..."  
"'Tienne, I'm not going to make you choose between us. After all, I know who I'd choose. So I'll make it simple. Goodbye." He stood up and walked away, and for some reason, he expected Etienne to call after him, tell him it was a mistake. He never did.

* * *

Grantaire trailed off for a moment. Jehan was triumphant. "He didn't leave you, and even if he had, you admitted you would have done the same. Who exactly were you jealous of here? Somehow I don't think it was Enjolras."  
Grantaire cast him a glare worthy of the Fearless Leader. "Jehan. Whose side are you on here?"  
"Etienne's. Whatever he's done, he's still family."  
Another glare. "I never thought I'd say this, but Jean Prouvaire, you can be an insensitive bastard sometimes." Before Jehan could respond to the insult, the door swung open, and everyone fell silent. It was Combeferre, but he appeared to be alone.  
"Not babysitting today?" Courfeyrac asked, confident that he was on good terms with both Combeferre and Enjolras. Thankfully, Combeferre smiled.  
"Not today. Enjolras's parents are in town. They wanted to see him for his birthday. And Christmas, I suppose." There was a ripple of quiet curses as people realised it was the winter solstice, meaning it was in fact their leader's twenty-second birthday. They wouldn't have forgotten, but Enjolras himself cared little about such things.  
"Well, I remembered," Jehan said proudly. "I went to see him this morning. I bought him a scarf." Courfeyrac laughed.  
"My dear Jehan, as much as I enjoy your company, you have no taste in fashion. I dread to think what you've inflicted on our poor leader." Jehan ignored the insult; he and Courfeyrac had been arguing over fashion as long as they knew each other.  
"It doesn't matter. Enjolras doesn't care," Combeferre informed them. "Jehan could have given him a filthy rag and he'd still wear it. Since when has he cared what he looks like? Anyway, what have I missed?"  
"Grantaire was telling me a story," Marius said.  
"Oh really? What story?"  
Grantaire muttered a barely audible "Etienne." Combeferre's face hardened.  
"Then please continue. Just make sure you tell the whole story, and not just that that shows you in a favourable light. He sat beside Courfeyrac, who filled him in on the reason the story was being told.  
Grantaire blushed. "Of course. Right, where was I?"  
"You broke up with Etienne," Marius reminded him. "So you were both in love with Golden Boy, but did he love either of you?"  
"Yes," Combeferre said simply, earning him a glare from Grantaire, who elaborated.  
"Etienne more than me. He just had a way of getting his trust. It was him that managed to stop him from getting himself or someone else killed." Combeferre snorted, but Grantaire continued regardless. "But Enjolras is virtuous, even now. Etienne could never lay a finger on him, not for want of trying. Anyway, let's jump forward a bit to three years back, a few months after Enjolras turned nineteen."

* * *

Enjolras had been fighting again. Now twenty-one, Combeferre was able to treat his cuts and bruises, and noticed that he was fighting less than he was a few years ago. He sat still, letting his cousin dab alcohol on his split lip and wincing slightly.  
"I wish you wouldn't get into so much trouble."  
"Sorry. I was out with Etienne." Combeferre sighed. The door opened.  
"Oh, speak of the devil. What do you want?" Etienne looked shamefaced.  
"To see mon cheri. I'm sorry for any trouble. Are you alright?" Enjolras nodded mutely, pressing a handkerchief to his cut. Etienne put an arm around his shoulders, kissing his forehead. "Fighting isn't good for you. Look at the amount of trouble you get in with your cousin."  
Combeferre just looked at him. "It's not him I'm annoyed with. Why my uncle still lets you see him is beyond me."  
"What have I ever done to make you hate me, Julien?"  
"Believe it or not, I happen to care about my cousin. Every time he's left in your care, something bad happens to him."  
"It's been almost two years since you went to Provence, are you ever going to let it go? Besides, you think I don't care about Valentin? I had to give up Grantaire for him, and given the choice again, I wouldn't change my mind."  
"Hey!" This shout came from Enjolras. "Don't talk about me like I'm not here. 'Ferre, I'm not a baby. I can look after myself."  
"I know you can, but I'll look after you all the same. I'm family, it's what I do."  
Etienne gently stroked Enjolras's hair, and the blonde leant against him, comforted. "Julien's right, cheri. He only does what's best for you, and you should be grateful for him. Shall we go out for a while, give your poor cousin some peace?"  
Enjolras nodded, following Etienne obediently.

* * *

"Smooth talking bastard." Everyone turned to look at Combeferre.  
"Watch your language," Grantaire warned.  
"It's true though! He had all three of you, you, Jehan and Enjolras doing anything he asked. I knew it would cause trouble."  
"Perhaps, but you didn't stop him. And not all of this story is his fault."

* * *

It was getting late, and there was still no sign of Enjolras or Etienne. Grantaire was watching Jehan, and Combeferre was out looking. He was avoiding involving his aunt and uncle as long as possible. After two hours of fruitless searching, he ran into one of Etienne's followers, a man by the name of Matthieu Augustin. He was one who liked to exaggerate his position in the group, looking down even on Etienne's most devoted.  
"Hey, you know that blonde kid, right? The one who follows 'Tienne around like a lost puppy?" Combeferre bit back a laugh. That wasn't how he saw it.  
"Yes, he's my cousin. Why, have you seen him?"  
"I saw him and 'Tienne earlier today. I was with them. Me and him are really close." Combeferre stayed silent. No-one was closer to Etienne than his 'lost puppy'. But he needed information, so he held his tongue. "He was giving a speech, wound up the coppers. Then it turns out that he's in it deep for leading a revolutionary society. Him and the blonde kid got arrested. It's pretty serious."  
"They've been arrested? I am going to kill Etienne when I get my hands on him."  
"You may not get the chance. That kid looks too young to be in trouble like that. If he's you're cousin, I suggest you get him the hell out of there."  
"I intend to. Thank you." As fast as he could, Combeferre ran to the prison and confronted the police.  
"I'm here to see a prisoner you arrested today, for sedition. He's only young, I think there must have been some mistake."  
"Which one? They're not giving their names."  
"Smart boy," he muttered under his breath. "The younger one. He's my cousin. Little and blond. Please just let me see him." The gendarme sighed at his desperation.  
"Fine, five minutes. But only because I think you're right. I recognise the Prouvaire boy, he's trouble. This isn't his first offence. If you manage to get your kid out of here, I suggest he chooses his friends more wisely."  
"No problem. Thank you very much."

* * *

"My guess is that Combeferre was not impressed," Marius said.  
"No, I was not," Combeferre snapped. "One sympathetic cogne wasn't going to get Enjolras out of trouble. They weren't gentle with him, especially considering he'd been accused of treason. Plus, he reacted badly to being thrown in a cell. And Prouvaire didn't say a single word in his defence."  
"The pair of you keep quiet! I'll be damned if I'm letting Combeferre finish this story."

* * *

Enjolras had gone past the days of descending into a violent rage when he felt trapped. Nevertheless, he still hated it, and started taunting the guards, who weren't impressed. Combeferre found him sat against the wall, looking worse for wear. The guard confronted him.  
"What do you want?"  
"I'm here to see my cousin." He motioned towards Enjolras, and the guard snorted.  
"Maybe you should talk some sense into him. He should learn when it's a good idea to hold his tongue."  
"Understood." He turned towards the cell."Enjolras?" He stiffly got to his feet and came towards the cell door. His face was bruised, and Combeferre recognised the manic glint in his eyes. "Don't panic. It's alright. I'm going to get you out of here."  
"Do my parents know I'm here?"  
"Not yet." He slid his hand through the bars and took hold of his cousin's.  
"Etienne's in serious trouble."  
"Forget about him. This is his fault. Worry about yourself. He is in serious trouble when I get hold of him." He shook his head. "Never mind that. Are you alright?"  
"I think so. I want to get out."  
"I know, I know. I have to go, but I promise I'll be back soon. Please, if you don't want to get hurt, just co-operate. I'll get you out, but you have to behave yourself. Do you want me to tell your parents where you are?"  
Enjolras nodded. "I've got nothing to hide. I've done nothing wrong."  
Combeferre went home via his uncle's house. He knocked on the door. "Valentin, is that you? Oh - Julien? Is everything alright? Have you seen Valentin? It's getting late."  
"He's been arrested."  
"What?"  
"He hasn't done anything wrong. He was just in the wrong place at the wrong time, and he's been arrested for sedition."  
"I bet this is that Prouvaire boy's fault. I was warned about him. Why didn't I listen? I suppose you've been to see him. Is he alright?"  
"It's a first offence for him. If we play dumb, we should be able to get him off with it. He'll be fine, I'll make sure of it."  
"Good. Does your mother know you're here? It's getting late."  
"I'm heading home soon, but I've got to go to Prouvaire's house. He's got a cousin, fifteen years old, couldn't do wrong if I he tried. I don't think it's fair if he's left alone because Etienne's a selfish idiot."  
"Poor boy. Well look after yourself, I don't want my little sister getting worried. I'll see you in the morning, and we'll get my boy back."  
Next stop was visiting Jehan. Grantaire looked up as Combeferre came in, crestfallen when neither of his two loves accompanied him. "Hello, Combeferre. You're alone?"  
"Where's Jehan?"  
"Asleep. Why, what's happened? Where are Enjolras and Etienne?"  
"In trouble. They've been arrested. I just thought Jehan ought to know."  
"Are they alright?"  
"Enjolras will be. I didn't see Etienne." Combeferre departed, unable to think of anything else to say. Needless to say, no-one slept well that night.

* * *

"JEHAN!" Grantaire glared at Courfeyrac, who'd just shocked a sleeping Jehan awake. He sat bolt upright, and everyone looked at Courfeyrac. Combeferre sighed.  
"Courfeyrac, Jehan knows this story. Most of the people here want to hear it without interruption."  
"Sorry. Carry on."

* * *

Combeferre and his uncle went to the prison first thing in the morning. After a lot of talking, arguing, and more than a little name dropping on M. Enjolras's part, they managed to get Enjolras's name cleared. The news was marred when they discovered that Etienne, as the ringleader of this revolution, had been sentenced to death.  
Enjolras paled. "He's... I have to see him. Please." He was pleading more to his cousin and father than the police.  
"No," his father told him. "I'm sorry, Valentin, but he's the one who got you into this mess."  
"Wait," the officer said. "You, kid, are you Valentin Enjolras?"  
"Yes."  
The policeman addressed his father. "Monsieur, the prisoner has asked to see a Valentin Enjolras as his last wish. I understand your reluctance, but he'd be supervised. If you want, you and this young gentleman can accompany him."  
"Please," Enjolras begged. His father sighed.  
"Fine. You can see him."  
Etienne stirred when he heard footsteps. He saw a figure at the cell door, a small hand reaching through the bars to him. "Etienne?"  
"You came."  
"Of course I came. I can't believe it. They're going to... to..."  
"To kill me? Yes, cheri, they are. Just so long as you're alright. I should never have got you into this. Look at you, this is all my fault." Etienne reached through the bars and gently touched Enjolras's bruised cheek.  
"Don't you dare lay a finger on my son,"a voice snapped from behind, and M. Enjolras pulled his son away from the bars.  
"Apologies, monsieur." The sarcasm was undisguised. "I believed this to be a private meeting. Oh, look, Combeferre's here as well. What do you want?"  
"What are you playing at? Jehan has no idea what's going on. You're leaving him on his own, and you can't even ask to see him. Instead, you ask to see a boy you've been pathetically chasing for years. Maybe you deserve to die."  
Enjolras let out a sharp gasp, and Combeferre realised what he'd just said. "Enjolras, no, I didn't mean it."  
"Get out," he snarled. "Both of you go. I want this discussion in private. Just leave." They obediently backed away, and Enjolras reached out again to Etienne.  
"I'm sorry for all of this, cheri. Grantaire will watch Jehan for me, but I want to make sure you're well looked after. I know you've got your family, but they'll smother you. I've got a friend. His name's Matthieu Augustin. I told him to let Combeferre know we'd been arrested if he saw him. He'll watch out for you."  
"Maybe I don't want him to. You're the one who watches out for me. You can't die."  
Enjolras was ice white and trembling, but refused to shed a tear. Etienne took hold of his hand. "I'm so sorry, cheri. But you have to stay strong for me. You need to lead now. Just remember, even after everything, even if I only have a few days to live, I love you."  
He ran a hand through Enjolras's hair, letting his hand rest on the back of his neck. "If it wasn't for the bars, I'd ask you for a kiss." Enjolras gave a shuddering sob, but still no tears. "Don't. You can't cry for me. Be strong. Everyone will look to you now."  
"Grantaire's your deputy."  
"Once, maybe. But me and him haven't seen eye to eye for a long time. He cares about you though. Everyone does. You're lucky, mon cheri. Grantaire adores you, you have your family, including Julien and his parents. Jehan looks up to you. You have everything going for you. Me? I'm just a washed up rebel who had nothing but worthless words. You're right. Revolution is the only way forward."  
"For you, Etienne. I'll fight in your name." Before anything else could be said, a guard appeared and pulled Enjolras away.  
"Time up, kid. If you've got any sense, you'll avoid criminals like him in future."  
He didn't go to see the execution. He stayed with Combeferre, Grantaire and Jehan. When the appointed time passed, he buried his head in his cousin's shoulder and wept.

* * *

As Grantaire fell silent, the room watched him, waiting for more. Jehan looked thoughtful. Grantaire felt a surge of guilt for sharing the story of his cousin's death, but Combeferre would kill him if he stopped now.  
"Jehan? Are you alright?"  
"Just thinking. It's the only time I've ever seen Enjolras cry. And after everything, I doubt we ever will again."  
"Thank you, Jehan, point taken. I messed him up, I know. Anyway, it wasn't the only time he cried for Etienne. You just weren't there to see it."  
"Then continue," Combeferre said bitterly. "I believe Marius wanted to know why Enjolras is cold. Explain."

* * *

Etienne's friend Matthieu had little interest in his old friend's apprentice. Instead, Enjolras leant on Grantaire, who was more than happy to look after him. One night, Enjolras lay half asleep in Grantaire's arms.  
"Do you ever regret leaving him?" Enjolras asked, out of the blue.  
"Never." It was clear who he meant. "He loved you more than me. He'd have done the same if I hadn't beaten him to it. Besides, he wasn't the only one... never mind."  
"I miss him." Enjolras trembled slightly. He brushed his hand across his eyes, sitting up. Grantaire sat up with him and looked at him, seeing his damp eyes. He put his arms around the boy, trying to soothe him.  
"It's alright, I know it's hard. Time's a great healer, though. And I'll look after you." He lightly kissed Enjolras's forehead. Before he knew it, his lips were pressed against Enjolras's, his arms wrapped around the golden boy's waist. Almost subconsciously, his hands slid downwards, until he was caressing his inner thigh.  
Enjolras pushed him away. "What are you doing?"  
"I... I..."  
"I trusted you. I thought you were my friend, that you cared about me."  
"I do. Enjolras..." He grabbed Enjolras's wrist, but he pulled back.  
"Get off! Leave me alone." He pulled on his coat and left, Grantaire calling after him. At the door, Enjolras rounded on him. "Etienne trusted you as well. I can't imagine why. And if you so much as touch me again, I'll tell 'Ferre everything, and leave you to his mercy."

* * *

"Are you happy now, Combeferre? Is my public humiliation penance for my crime? And, I didn't so much as lay a finger on Enjolras, so how do you know anyway?"  
"Unsurprisingly, he was upset. I made him tell me what was wrong."  
"So, that, in short, is why Enjolras hates me, why he won't let anyone close, why Combeferre hates me and Etienne Prouvaire, why Jehan's alone, and it was round about that time that I started drinking. Happy, Marius?"  
"No, not really. Enjolras shut himself off because you made a pass at him? I may not like the man, but even I have to admit he attracts attention. You can't have been the first, or the last."  
"It's not the point. He was vulnerable, he trusted me, and I took advantage of him. Do you need any more information?"  
"I think I do, because that's not the end." Another voice joined the conversation, soft and deadly. With a flash of shock, they noticed Enjolras, perched on the edge of his table. No-one had noticed him come in.  
"How long have you been there?" Combeferre showed no sign of surprise.  
"Since I got arrested. An almost accurate account so far."  
"Oh, really? Then enlighten me, Apollo."  
"I don't hate you for that. I would have forgiven you, but a short while afterwards, you accidentally left something at the cafe. A letter addressed to me, left by Etienne, that you'd already read. So you lied to me, and tried to seduce me even though you knew. Add that to the excessive drinking, sarcasm, cynicism and making a mockery of everything I believe in, and that is why I hate you." Valentin tossed a folded up piece of paper onto the table. "Now, I was only supposed to be dropping by quickly. I'm going out to dinner with my parents. Jehan... I'm sorry. Forgive me."  
The group huddled round the table, trying to read the letter that Enjolras had apparently been carrying every day.  
_Mon cheri,_  
_I wish I could tell you all of this in person, but if I see you, it could get you into serious trouble. So Adrien should pass on this letter. I hope you're alright. I hate to think that you might be suffering._  
_I survived, though. I managed to escape the day after you got free. I'd never leave you in prison alone. I don't know who they executed in my place, and maybe I should have found out, but it's too late for that now. I broke out and ran as far as I could._  
_I'm on the run now. I'd give anything to see you one last time, but keeping you safe is more important than my own personal happiness. I'll do everything in my power to come back for you. Please, though, don't tell Jehan I'm alive. I don't want to give him false hope that I'll be back soon._  
_I hope we'll see each other soon_  
_All my love,_  
_Etienne_  
Courfeyrac gave a low whistle. "He knew all along? No wonder he's so cold about it all. Poor boy. Jehan..."  
The young poet was obviously angry. "That stuck up, arrogant idiot!"  
"Which one?"  
"Etienne! I can't believe he wouldn't tell me."  
Grantaire leant back in his chair. "Well, I think it's now fairly obvious why Enjolras hates me. He is never going to forgive me. Now are you satisfied, Marius?"


End file.
